Living on Edge

Don't push me 'cause I'm close to the edge

I'm trying not to lose my head, ha-ha

It's like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

It's like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

[Grandmaster Flash - The Message]

The lyrics above came to mind after I had two close encounters with anarchy. I am compelled to share these experiences in the hope that someone in a position of power will wake up and ‘smell the anger’.

The two experiences are tied to the perennial petrol scarcity that seems to have become the new normal, both events played out at petrol stations.

About 3 weeks ago, when I had avoided the petrol queues long enough for my fuel gauge to get to empty, I decided to take my chances at one of the stations along Ikorodu Road. The queue was single file and orderly (or so it seemed); I brought out my Kindle to catch up on some reading (hate waiting without having any activity to fill the time). After 40 minutes on the queue, I was finally inside the station, success! Then it all went downhill. A lot of bare chested guys flooded the station with plastic containers of all sizes and the atmosphere immediately changed, there was a lot of jostling and shouting and I silently prayed everything would settle down. Then some soldiers got into the mix and we all know how ‘good’ they are with crowd control. The horsewhips were out in a flash and next thing there’s a guy on my bonnet yelling something and that was my own moment of Zen because I stopped to contemplate the ridiculousness of some strange guy on my car's bonnet all because I needed to get some petrol.

And then the guns came out too, and then the threats from the battle scarred guys determined to buy fuel for resale on the streets of Lagos. The rallying cry was ‘e fo go so wo’ (translation: break some bottles). And then some more fierce looking young men flooded the station with different implements, one came in with two bottles of Fanta in his back pants pockets and I knew he didn’t intend to stop for some refreshment in the impending melee.

By this time I was frantically praying and looking for an escape route, suddenly the prospect of filling my tank just didn’t seem attractive any longer; I just wanted to be far away from the whole madness. But there was no way out so I was stuck; the good thing was that the soldiers had a healthy sense of self-preservation so they just made some halfhearted threats to shoot but who really wants to shoot up a gas station? And when they saw their threats were not having the desired effects on the thugs, they got their fuel and left; the balance of power was restored. That was my first glimpse of negative people power at work. Nothing, not even the threat of lethal force, was going to stop the thugs from their dubious enterprise; their belligerence fueled by ‘righteous’ indignation at the military personnel who were trying to take food off their table.

Second episode was on 18/04/2016; I was driving down Murtala Mohammed Way, one of the better roads in Lagos so I wasn’t looking to avoid any pot holes and the next thing I know, I had driven over what was supposed to be a covered manhole and immediately lost two tyres. The cover of the manhole had been removed for some strange reason that only applies in Nigeria and I drove over the hole at approximately 80km/hour. Thankfully, I got that sorted after about an hour and a half. Lest I forget, I had company in my Monday morning misery, another unsuspecting driver drove over the same manhole and guess what? He lost two tyres too; one of the perks of living in Nigeria is that no matter how annoying, absurd or ridiculous your situation is, you’ll always find company in it.

When I finally sorted the tyre palaver, I decided to tempt fate by getting on a petrol queue, I was already 2 hours late and I wasn’t in a frame of mind for work any longer, I was upset that I was living in a country where you could lose two tyres simply by expecting that manholes on a major road would be covered.

Whilst on the queue, I noticed a particular bare chested young man (I guess ‘area boys’ don’t bother with the niceties of covering up because they expect to get in a fight at some point in time, just my own theory) rolling a motorcycle in and out of the petrol station and siphoning fuel from the motor bike into a plastic keg.  This made me remember an Igbo proverb I had read in a Chinua Achebe novel many years ago - “since men have learnt to shoot without missing, the bird has learnt to fly without perching” - this proverb encapsulates the much vaunted Nigerian trait of resourcefulness. If the petrol stations wouldn’t dispense fuel into containers other than vehicle tanks, then we’ll simply use motor bikes even if we have to make the trip 5 times to fill up a keg.

I also observed another one of the thugs who had finally acquired a full keg of petrol after all his ‘hard work’ dancing in ecstasy and smoking a roll of marijuana. Another moment of Zen to contemplate the danger of a lit roll of weed with a keg of highly flammable liquid in hand; I guess the weed and the prospect of profit from the sale of his petrol made him too happy to care.

After a while I got to the petrol pump and the wahala began, some armed mobile police had come into the station and spotted the ‘resourceful’ young man who had decided to use a motor bike to purchase fuel as many times as needed to fill several plastic containers. I couldn’t hear what they were discussing but one of the policemen suddenly splashed water in the ‘petrol magnate’s’ face and all hell broke loose. The guy went ballistic and made to attack 4 armed men whilst everyone watched with growing alarm because we all know what happens when a civilian takes on armed policemen. Some of the thug’s supporters started throwing objects at the policemen and the next thing rifle butts were swinging all over the place but thankfully no shots were fired inside the station. The thug refused to be pacified and was determined to fight to protect his standing as a ‘hard man’; the fight was taken out of the station and our trigger happy cops started shooting in the air.

Just like my previous experience, I was trapped inside the station without an escape route. As my eyes were darting all over trying to figure out how to extricate myself from the potentially explosive situation (pun intended), I looked out and saw petrol boy and his goons with scarves over their faces, containers of fuel in one hand and lighters in the other. They were approaching the policemen and taunting them. At that point, I begged one of the cops to clear the road and let us all leave, by this time petrol was the last thing on anyone’s mind, people were already speeding away and thankfully I could drive out and leave. I later heard that one of the policemen had been stabbed and had to beat a hasty retreat.

So I had a pretty rough Monday but what struck me more was the realization of the fact that we are living in thinly veiled anarchy; in both events, the army and police were incapable of maintaining order even with force of arms. Some people might dismiss this and say the police were just being cautious in view of all the lives at risk. The real issue to consider is that there are lots of young people in our society that have nothing to lose and are ready to die violently along with many other innocents if their chosen means of survival is threatened. In view of the fact that these events happened in a space of 3 weeks, I can safely guess that these potential firestorms are being replicated at petrol stations all over Lagos.

As Nigerians, we generally pride ourselves on possessing great resilience; I’ve often heard people jokingly say if you push a Nigerian to the wall, he’ll make a hole and go through the wall! The joke about this legendary resilience is hollow in view of various manifestations of lawlessness and hopelessness. However, the people we have elected to make life better are still oblivious of the subtle change in the Nigerian psyche and are still handing out platitudes like “change takes time” and “things will get worse before they get better”. What they don’t understand is that there is a whole generation of youth who have not experienced the ‘better’ and only the ‘worse’.

The inability of the police to arrest certain people e.g. Tompolo; the Shia versus Army confrontation that led to hundreds of deaths; the ongoing war against Boko Haram; the murderous Fulani herdsmen and the various agitations all over the country are glaring signs of a country living on the edge of complete chaos.

If Nigeria were a soap opera, and events in Nigeria are decidedly more outlandish than any soap plot, the soundtrack of our lives would be “don’t push me cos I am close to the edge...”

Let Reason Rule

I just read an article by Chimamanda Adichie; it’s titled “To be Igbo in Nigeria is constantly to be a Suspect”. The article attempts to explain the reaction of Igbo people to Oba Akiolu’s tirade and why we should not wave the anger and the fear it has generated away. I understand what she’s trying to say and I think the bottom line is that we should take discrimination seriously because it affects us all one way or the other.

I have read lots of articles about the fiasco and I have seen that irresponsible comments made by people in authority truly bring out the worst in us. The Oba abused his office by making those comments; people in positions of trust should never use their positions to coerce their followers into a certain course of action. I have read some cringe-worthy articles by both Igbo and Yoruba writers and I have marveled at the level of seething resentment that exists in Nigeria. Worst of all, the politicians have hijacked the discussion and turned it into a ‘vote for me because I love you more’ campaign and to our discredit as a people, this sort of campaign is being taken seriously!

I know about discrimination by reason of being a single woman, living alone, with an unusual name that does not quickly lend itself to tribal affiliations. I have recently felt the weight of discrimination as a house hunter and it’s not just about “Mo o gbe ile mi fun Ibo o” (I won’t let my house to an Ibo person o); it’s also been about ‘We don’t rent to single ladies’ or more delicately “You have to come with your husband to view” and “How do you intend to pay” (as there is no man around). In the course of my search, I have had people ask me questions like “why aren’t you married at your age?” Someone even asked “are you a party girl” (whatever that means). I have had viewing appointments cancelled over the phone because the prospective landlord wants only “Yoruba Muslim” tenants. A prospective landlady asked me thrice in one conversation where my husband is and when he would be joining me and I told her thrice also, in the most even tone I could muster, that I am not married. Most of these encounters were with Yoruba people though the one about marriage and age is a free for all point of discrimination. Does this mean that I see the Yoruba race as my arch enemy? No, my mother is Yoruba for one, but that aside, I know that the fears expressed about me (I believe fear is the root cause of prejudice) are illogical. They are illogical because being Ibo doesn’t automatically translate to being a bad tenant; being a single woman doesn’t mean that I’m financially impotent or a raging ‘party girl’!  Being single or married doesn’t make you a better or worse citizen of Nigeria. I also know that reciprocal prejudice is a vicious cycle. I know that most prejudiced people don’t know any better and are simply products of unsavory experiences and negative socialization.

I also know that some people will always find something to be bigoted about. I recently discovered that being from Delta State and being Ibo are mutually exclusive occurrences  because somebody who considers himself the true judge of ‘Iboness’ says Delta people cannot be Ibo.  So where does it end? It ends with each individual; I have also been guilty of bigoted thinking at different times but this whole ‘Drowning in the Lagoon’ saga has made me think more clearly about the effects of discrimination and I have decided to go with logic instead.

Discrimination of any sort is damaging to people’s psyche because it is simply a form of rejection. It is terrible to be rejected because of circumstances that you cannot change, circumstances of birth and ethnicity, circumstances of marital status, age etc. However, the Oba’s comments will not affect my judgment and I think that if we are to grow as a people, logical thought has to take precedence in our daily affairs. The decision about who to vote for must not be made in a reactionary manner. Vote for whomever will work in your best interests, vote for the candidate you perceive as qualified for the job. Don’t let anyone tell you that you owe it to your ethnic group to vote for a particular candidate. Lagos State is not a group of clans, it is a metropolis. Your vote, today and in the future should be about making our metropolis work, it should be about making it a decent place to work and live in, and not about spite or reciprocal prejudice.

Cynicism is the Coward's Suicide

Cynicism is the bastion of the defeated. It is the breastplate of the conquered. It is the shield of the fearful. It is the bravado of those who feel powerless. Cynicism is the coward’s suicide.

Cynicism is the oppressor’s best friend because s/he already knows you believe the worst of them so why make the effort to change your mind?

The cynic says “what’s the point?” when asked to take positive action. The cynic looks away and pretends s/he isn’t bothered by atrocity after atrocity. The cynic refuses to try again because he’s sure that failure is waiting in the wings. The cynic believes nothing, hopes in nothing and tries desperately to feel nothing.

In this very political season in Nigeria, I’ve come across a great deal of cynicism; I’ve heard people say February 14 2015 will just be another opportunity to rest from the previous week’s toil. I’ve heard people say things like “wetin my vote go do?” I’ve seen people who are resigned to ‘fate’; people who have decided to ‘siddon look’. Please don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a campaign for anybody, this is an appeal to drag people out of the shadows. We have more than ten presidential aspirants though for all intents and purposes, it’s just between 2 people; whatever the case may be, each one of us has an opportunity to influence something momentous by casting a vote.

For those who may not be able to vote because of TVC and PVC issues, I sympathize because I’m affected too but for those who have cards and still live in the locality, there is just no excuse for not voting. I know we have been disappointed over and over by leadership, I know that some of the people we enthusiastically voted into office have become vampires operating in daylight but still…

We may not know it but people power has worked in the past. After the scuttled 1993 elections, people power put an end to Military rule in Nigeria; people power is what has ensured that we are not yet paying N200/litre for petrol because many Government pundits believe we should be paying the same rate as the US. People power has reduced the number of accidental discharges from police guns on our streets and it has made police checkpoints less menacing.

There’s something different about these elections; the two major parties have never had to campaign like this. They know that there’s something at stake; they know that we count. They’ve heard the anger, they’ve seen the countless tweets and posts. They know. There’s a lot happening on social media but I fear that most of us just think it’s a lot of hot air that will soon blow over.

Cynicism doesn’t change any situation, it just perpetuates the undesirable. Cynicism is like the silencer on a pistol, it mutes the noise of the shot but doesn’t minimize the damage. We need to be heard on February 14; we need to show Nigeria some love by voting.

To my Christian brethren who say things like “let God’s will be done” I’d like to let you know that God executes His will through people. God’s will is not isolated from His people’s actions. It is God’s will for me to be in good health but it is my responsibility to make healthy choices. It is God’s will for me to prosper materially but it is my responsibility to go out and work and give value to get value. It is God’s will for Nigeria to have good leadership, it is up to us to choose those leaders. Inaction isn’t faith, it is spiritual laziness.

Let those of us who have the statutory requirements make it a date with the ballot box. Let’s show Nigeria some love on Valentine’s Day.

“No democracy that stands in enviable heights ever rose on the back of acquiescing, lethargic and kowtowing citizens. Every voice counts…”Oby Ezekwesili

The Choice

At the height of the Ebola crisis in Nigeria, there were some macabre quips about choosing a disease. The joke goes thus: a certain person went to run some tests at the hospital and he comes out rejoicing about the disease he tested positive for, people around are baffled that he’s rejoicing over being HIV positive and he says “at least, it’s not Ebola!”

Choice isn't always grand, sometimes the options before us are so bad that we’d rather avoid making a choice. But every responsible person must make a choice at some point, the alternative is a lifetime of victimhood.  This brings me to the choice before us on February 14^th and I'm not talking cakes or flowers.

Everywhere I turn I hear arguments for or against the two main presidential candidates. I often find some of these arguments quite disturbing because they tell me that we are no longer interested in good governance. I recently heard someone say that the president should be allowed to ‘complete’ his second term as if it were a God given right for every president to have two terms in office. This is similar to saying that a student shouldn't be given a fail grade just because s/he showed up at the exam hall! This argument usually emanates from people who happen to be from Nigeria’s ‘down under’.

In response to the president’s ultra-soft stance on corruption, the argument is that corruption is systemic in Nigeria and there’s little or nothing that can be done about it. I believe that no matter how gargantuan a problem is, it can be solved when there’s a will. If a leader’s body language says ‘I don’t give a damn’ about stealing then where is the will for the followers to take a stance against it? One of the most glaring instances of this is the case of a minister who presided over a 2.5 trillion naira scam not too long ago, this same minister has been recommended for a prominent international position. I cannot catalogue every instance of this administration’s romance with graft but I know that it is pretty obvious that we are currently in the most enabling dispensation for graft, theft, embezzlement, misappropriation (I don't want to use that nebulous word ‘corruption’ lest some people get into a hysteria of hair splitting semantics)

The latest argument for the incumbent’s reelection was put forward by someone whom I feel should know better. The PDP’s gubernatorial aspirant for Lagos state argues that GEJ should be reelected to prevent South-South militants from blowing up our oil wells thereby destroying what’s left of our battered economy. This thinking is shocking first because it suggests that Nigerians are under siege and must obtain their freedom by voting against their will. It’s also shocking for a less obvious reason – this argument tells me that even Mr. Agbaje knows within himself that there’s no plausible reason to elect his party’s presidential candidate, so he resorts to the vote for my president or the bogeyman will get you argument!

Another tenuous defense of this administration is the fact that the man at the helm has good intentions but very bad advisers. Well, leadership is about influence not just political office, if all the people who surround a leader are bad and incompetent then there is a need for the leader to undergo a thorough self-examination. A long time ago, I read the autobiography of Lana Turner, a Hollywood star of the 40’s and 50’s. She had married and divorced 7 different men but she somehow managed to pin the blame for the failure of the marriages on the men and I just wondered about the odds of such a saintly woman attracting 7 horrible men in one lifetime. At best, the failed marriages say something about her judgment.

The APC candidate is by no means an ideal candidate. He’s an ex-military head of state who’s known to have violated many human rights and he’s also made some very provocative statements. The fact of our very limited choices for leadership is a symptom of the state of the nation.  It tells the tale of a country that is still hamstrung by primordial affiliations to tribe and religion; it tells of a people who have become so cynical that the very notion of good leadership has become unthinkable.

Be that as it may, we cannot fold our arms and sit on the fence and expect things to ‘work out’ by some stroke of luck. We must work with what we have until we get something better; we as a people, have to make a choice no matter how unpleasant. Inaction is often acquiescence to the status quo. The choice for me isn't so much about the candidate, the choice is about my hope for change though some may argue vehemently that the opposition won’t change anything, well we will have a chance to find out if that’s true or false in the next 4 years (if they win).

The president has had 6 years to convince us that he can do the job and to some people he has proved himself but to others, he has failed. The imminent election is a chance for those who believe he has failed to choose someone else in the hope that that person will do a better job. That’s democracy.

The Woman, The Healer and The Crowd

The story of the woman with the issue of blood is one that resonates with me, I find it compelling in its simplicity and depth. The story took on a whole new life to me in recent time because for almost 5 years of my life, I felt I had an issue of blood! I had horrendous periods that lasted up to 3 weeks…yes you read right, 3 weeks! And the periods came like clockwork every 28 days so if you do the math, you’ll know why I felt like that woman.  I also see the story from 3 different angles: the Woman, the Healer and the Crowd.

The Woman

Every time I read that story, and I do read it often, I am struck by the fact that, in the era in which the central character lived, everyone must have believed that she was the unlikeliest of people to have close contact with Jesus; in fact, she was the unlikeliest person to be found in a crowd. She must have been written off as cursed and thereby an outcast, whose only fate was a lonely death. There were just so many things holding her down, so many legitimate reasons for her to give up and die in that condition. Let’s take a look at the obvious reasons she shouldn't have been in that crowd:

      According to Jewish law, she was ritually unclean and everything she came in contact with was tainted (check out the full requirements of the Law in Leviticus 15:19-33)

      As she was ritually unclean, she must have been alone. The account in Mark doesn't mention a family but if she had any, prior to her condition, they would have been long gone. Her family may not have left her out of spite but inability to have any contact with a family member for years would put a strain on a relationship

      She had been ill with a flow of blood for 12 years, so she must have been gravely ill, debilitated by the loss of blood; anemic to the point of death. She must have been so weak that it would have required extreme will power to propel herself into that crowd

      She had spent all that she had on physicians so she must have been in dire poverty.

There are other practical reasons why people wouldn't have wanted her around; she would have carried the constant stench of blood around, so apart from Jewish Law, she would have really been unclean. Remember there were no modern sanitary items for her to use, if you think about it, the Law was practical. But this didn't stop her from taking a decision to do something to change the trajectory of her life. She heard about the Solution and she pushed her way into that crowd and touched the hem of His garment.

This woman has also taught me about surrender and flexibility in my approach to God, she didn't seek an audience with Jesus at all costs, she didn't cry out “Jesus heal me” as some other people did; she looked at that crowd and decided that it would be next to impossible to push through and have a face to face with Him, so she took a pragmatic decision –  she touched His garment, the rest is history.

The Healer

He was on His way to heal a little girl, the daughter of Jairus, one of the rulers of the synagogue; the man had begged Jesus to come and lay hands on her to heal her (he had pretty specific ideas about how his daughter was going to be healed like some of us have specific ideas of how God should answer our prayers). Jesus didn't quibble, He didn't ignore the plea. He simply went along with Jairus. His willingness in itself is telling because people of Jairus’s class resented Jesus; in fact, some of them claimed that He was demon possessed!

As He was going, He felt power go out of Him…I used to wonder about this but now I understand that faith is the one thing that grabs His attention. If there’s one thing that makes God stand still for a man, it’s his faith. Faith met with power in that instant and He just had to know where it emanated from, that’s why He stopped to ask “Who touched my clothes”

When He turned around and saw her and heard her story, He didn't rebuke her for touching Him in her unclean state, instead He called her daughter - a term of affection for someone who was badly in need of affection. When she touched His garment, she was physically healed, when He stopped to speak to her, she was emotionally and psychologically healed.

Apart from the healing, He had time for her; remember He was on his way to heal a VIP’s daughter but He had time for an unclean outcast.

The Crowd

“So Jesus went with him and a great multitude followed Him and thronged Him” (Mark 5:24)

I don’t really know why that crowd was following Him to Jairus's house but I think they all wanted to see a spectacle, they were true spectators. Everyone wants to experience the extraordinary; we want to tell the tale in the first person. Those people were eager to see what ‘magic’ Jesus would perform on the little girl.  The thing about being a spectator is that you’re constantly watching someone else’s story unfolding. When Jesus wondered aloud about who touched Him, some of His disciples took umbrage because everyone was literally touching Him so how could He ask such a question? The question I have always wanted to ask is, in that whole crowd, was there no one who needed healing of some sort apart from the frail woman who touched Him? 

There are loads of people who are within touching distance of saving grace and power but they’re too busy being voyeurs to extend their faith.

When in the presence of power, don't just be a part of the crowd, be a partaker. 

21st Century Paranoia

I went to church on a nice Sunday morning sometime late last year;  I was looking forward to an uplifting sermon as usual and I didn’t expect anything would happen to make me want to rush out of church. Anyway I found a seat not exactly in front of the pulpit but close enough to it for me. Then this guy who was probably in his early 20’s, comes and sits next to me; I really didn’t think anything of it at the time, after all the church hall is a public space. Then he leaned towards me and asked “which service is this and what time does it end?” I answered him politely enough, vaguely assuming he was a first timer in church and was trying to choose a suitable service (the church runs 4 services on Sunday).  

My alarm bells started ringing when he told me that he had to step out and he casually left his small knapsack on his seat and walked away! I looked at the package and my alarm grew with every step he took towards the exit. Suddenly, his innocuous question took on a new meaning; was he trying to decide the best time to set ‘it’ off?  I was thinking to myself “will I have enough time to make a run for it?” My sensible voice harshly told me not to be silly and unnecessarily fanciful. I’ve had a panic attack before but that was on a lift that was stuck between floors!  I certainly never expected to have one in church. I also considered the spiritual aspect; I’m not supposed to be afraid in the House of God…am I, what about faith? Anyway each minute that he was away seemed like an hour and my eyes were glued to that bag as if the sheer fact of my having it within my sight would render it harmless. I tried to pray but honestly I couldn’t put my thoughts together. Fear is a terrible emotion and aloneness in fear is worse. I was the only one in church who was afraid that I might be sitting next to a bomb; I was the only person the mysterious young man had spoken to. So I was the only one left analyzing his question and wondering if I was just being silly.  I decided to voice my fear  thereby demystifying it so I walked up to an usher and explained what had transpired, the usher didn’t seem too bothered though he walked over to look at my ‘mysterious package’ and said something vague that I can't remember now.

In all this time, the young man was nowhere to be found,  honestly, I thought of simply walking out of the service and just going home where I would be ‘safe’ but I took the less radical option of moving as far away as possible from the ‘package’; I sat right next to one of the exits and I don’t think I heard a word of that sermon. I stayed till the very end because fear is a bully that feeds on acquiescence to its dictates, so staying put was my puny act of defiance.

Till this day, I still don’t know why I was so frightened; maybe it was all the sensational news reporting plus my overactive imagination that kicked in on that day. The fact that you’re reading this means there was no bomb or any untoward event on that Sunday. The most significant revelation I got  that day was that no one is immune from terror no matter how far removed we are from the domain of the terrorists. If I’d had this same experience a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it; in fact I may have gone the extra mile of safeguarding the young man’s property. I realised that the objective of terrorism is to stop people from living their lives and the only way to conquer terror is to look it in the face and just go on living.

I had just suffered from a bout of 21^st century paranoia; it wasn’t pleasant but it was liberating.

Thinking about a Parable

Thinking about a Parable

Every time I read the Parable of the Lost Son, I’m always amazed at the grace and generosity displayed by the Father. It is such a comforting parable especially for frail beings like me who tend to wander away to a “far country”; so I would like to share my thoughts with people who may be ‘at home’, on the verge of wandering or those who have taken themselves off to a far place:

Sin takes us far away from God; wrong desires always make us wander away from the Father’s domain and take note that distance need not be physical. “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had and, set off for a distant country…” (Luke 15:13a)

Sinful living dissipates us; it brings deprivation, shame and squalor (this troika doesn't always refer to material possessions) “He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating but no one gave him anything” (Luke 15:16)

Living away from the Father is akin to being away from our senses; it just doesn’t make sense! “When he came to his senses, he said ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death!’”(Luke 15:17)

Repentance is a decision and decisions are nothing if not followed through with concrete action. The younger son had fallen as low as he could so he decided to go back home and ask for forgiveness. “I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father I have sinned against heaven and against you…so he got up and went to his father” (Luke 15:18-20a)

God knows the exact moment of repentance even when no evidence is visible to other people; the Father sees and meets the sinner at the point of repentance, no questions asked. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him” (Luke 15:20b). Our God is an affectionate Father!

True repentance makes no excuses, no rationalization or justification. It involves saying it as it is: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son” (Luke 15:21)

God celebrates repentance lavishly; he doesn’t wait for us to work to earn brownie points and approval. The celebration of a changed heart and mind is immediate: “Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate” (Luke 15:22)

This last point is for those who are at home with the Father: enjoy His presence and know that his love is enough to go round. Don’t resent the person who’s wandered off and come back home, they’ve already missed out on all the time you’ve had with the Father and that can’t be regained (Luke 15:29-32)